Gotham Girl
by Emma.Jean.Scott
Summary: Stephanie Brown's story of how she became Batgirl.Featuring Barbara Gordon, Batman and Commissioner Gordon


God, this was NOT my night. Of all the things that could go wrong, EVERYTHING went wrong. Let me give you the down-low.

It all started out with my judo class; the fricking community centre decided I was too loud and rough with the other students there, because I ACCIDENTLY broke Jake Ryder's collarbone. In my defence, he should have been paying attention to the blocks we were taught. Anyway, that was the last martial art's place I was allowed in, being banned from every other class. I had nothing to do; Mom wanted me to go to the library, but books just aren't my thing. Then suggested I take up an I.T class- I'll admit, it didn't teach me the basics at all, but I figured out how to hack computers and accounts. Weird, right? After being kicked out from there for hacking the teacher's computer every lesson, I was back at the beginning. I had nothing to do. That's when the life-changing news came. Dad was killed in action while protecting the Commissioner's wife from some thug working for Alberto Falcone, a new mob boss in Gotham. That's when I decided something had to be done.

I started on the streets, getting in with some groups, making a small name for my self. All the guys talked about was this guy who dressed as a bat and fought the 'good guys'/their type of people. But apparently he went rogue and killed Harvey Dent, Gotham's white knight. The police hunted him, never catching him or finding out where he worked. The rumours were that the Commissioner was close with him and had some details on him, which is why Falcone went after his wife. This was groundbreaking information for me; if I could find this Batman, I could prove my self to him and become his partner. But I refuse to wear any spandex, 'cause superhero stuff like that is way too cliché. The problem was actually finding this guy. So I decided I wouldn't find him, he'd find me. Then I'd kick his ass, show him I'm better than him and be his side-kick. But the sort of side-kick where they're actually better than the main hero. Like Nick Fury and Black Widow.

For my next step, the Yellowpages helped out a HELL of a lot; finding out where Comish Gordon lived was a piece of cake! As I walked up the steps to his down-town house, I couldn't help but notice the ramp beside the steps- relatively new, as the colour was bright and it had very little pieces of dirt on. Gordon and I had a sort of respect for each other, with my dad dying to protect his wife and all. It seemed like he knew how it felt to have a sort of loss at that moment in time. It's a shame Barbara, his wife, couldn't be at the funeral- the hospital wouldn't let her leave, apparently. I tapped on the door six times, each tap short. When the door opened, a small boy smiled up at me, his brown curly hair short.

"Hey, there!" I said enthusiastically, crouching down to his height and smiling at him, receiving a smile back. "Is your daddy home?" His smile widened as he opened his mouth and giggled, before running through the corridors of his house. I stood in an upright position as another small-ish figure came round the corner. My eyes widened as I saw Barbara, her dark red hair hanging down beside her shoulders, sporting some fashionable glasses, in a WHEELCHAIR. Only then did I realise that it must have been from THAT night, when that thug killed my dad. I was never told that this happened to her. I regained my posture as Barbara wheeled herself towards me.

"Can I help you?" she asked, very formal. Very Gordon-like.

"Erm, yeah, is Jim home?" I asked, trying to shake the shock off.

"No, I'm afraid you've just missed him, he's gone to the station. Would you like to leave a message?" she replied.

"No, no. I'm alright. Thanks, anyway…" I thanked, turning round to walk away.

"Wait!" Barbara's voice called after me, making me turn round instinctively. "Stephanie. I'm sorry about your dad." Oh god, another 'I'm sorry' thing…'. "If it wasn't for me, he'd be alive. And I'm truly sorry." Wow, that was a twist in the apology. How on earth did she come up with that conclusion?

Brushing loose strands of my blonde hair over my ear, I looked down to the floor. "No, it's not your fault. It's Falcones." I said meekly. "And he's going to pay." I whispered to myself. But, DANG! Barbara seemed to hear it.

"Stephanie, that's a very serious thing to say around these streets." She said, concernedly. "Don't a bright girl like you doing something stupid- you'll get yourself hurt."

Le sigh. "Dually noted, Mrs. Gordon. Thank you," I said, before turning round again and walking away.

…

Slamming my bedroom door shut, I dropped my shopping bags on the floor, allowing the coloured fabrics and materials to fall to the ground. Clinging a load of random pieces, scissors, a needle and thread, I jumped onto my bed. My hands started flying and twirling as I slashed through denim, leather and some freaky cloth I found at this costume shop. After spending hours at slicing and sewing, I had finally made my masterpiece. My crème de le crème of clothing. My bat-suit. Consisting of a denim-mini skirt, dark blue T-Shirt with a stitched on sign, which I assumed, was like the bat-signal in the sky (I could never really get a good look at it…), black leather in the style of leggings but stopping just below my knees, my favourite black and white trainers, small black gloves I use on my motorbike, my custom-made blue domino-mask and a my black and yellow cape, connecting to itself at the neck.

OKAY, it wasn't the most professional superhero costume, but it was good enough for that moment in time. Standing there infront of my mirror, hands on hips and sporting a smile, I said to myself "Okay. Now you're ready to make Falcone pay."


End file.
